Blue Plaid, Coffee and a Baseball Cap
by thirdlittlepig
Summary: How will Rory respond to Lorelai's budding romance with Max Medina?Will eventually be LL. Season 1 and 2 time.Please READ AND REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

**Blue Plaid, Coffee and a Baseball Cap**

A/N: My first Gilmore Girls Fic. Please R&R.

Lorelai was seated at the stool closest to the cash register, steaming coffee mug nestled between her hands.

"So, then," she said, "Rory walks into my room, all dressed up and says, 'beautiful, wonderful, mommy dearest of mine, have you forgotten that it is Friday evening, the night from hell, the night when we must willingly walk before Lucifer in his mansion of horrors and eat his poisoned food?' Of course I'd forgotten. For the first time in my short existence, I actually saw life flash before my eyes."

Luke rolled his eyes. Lorelai had always had a flair for the dramatic. She took a gulp of coffee.

"Anyway, she's standing there all George Peppard to my Holly Golightly while I raced around trying to find something decent to wear. Of course, I didn't get around to do doing laundry this week –"

"Of course." Luke interjected with an eye roll as he wiped down the counter.

" – so, every outfit I pulled out seemed to be just one article short of perfection and, naturally, Emily Gilmore will stand for nothing short of perfection. But… fear not, we made it on the train to Sing Sing only ten minutes late."

"Good to hear," said Luke, putting away his washcloth and returning to the cash register just as Lorelai wrapped two scones into a napkin with 'Luke's' printed in the corner.

"You going to pay for those scones?" He asked, not really caring either way, but feeling the need to say something.

Lorelai waved him off.

"Add it to my tab, Mr. Danes," she said, her mock English accent failing spectacularly.

"What tab?"

"Oh, quite right, chap. I'll just be off then." She put the napkin into her purse, grabbed to her to-go coffee cup, flashed Luke a smile and was on her way.

Luke stood there watching her leave, taken aback, as always, by her exuberance.

Lorelai pushed the door to the house open with her elbow. She had shopping bags in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other, upon which she'd rested her mail; there were a few stray envelopes she'd been forced to grab onto with her teeth.

"Offspring!" she called, her words muffled by the paper in her mouth, "Mommy needs help!"

Rory appeared from her room where she'd obviously been busy doing homework.

"Mommy needs _professional_ help," she said with a grin, as she relieved Lorelai of some of her parcels.

"Oh, smart, clever, child of mine. I always thought it was only my stunningly good looks you'd inherited, but it seems you've been blessed to receive my wit and charm as well."

Rory rolled her eyes.

"Did you get my note?" Lorelai asked.

Rory held up the stained napkin on which Lorelai had scribbled, with permanent marker, the lyrics to The Barenaked Ladies song 'Million Dollars'. Some of the words were crossed out, and Lorelai had scrawled, "If I had a million dollars… I wouldn't have to go to Friday night dinner." Underneath, she'd jotted, "Going to Luke's for a fix. Have phone."

"Very cute," was Rory's sarcastic reply. "And you misspelled 'have'."

Lorelai grabbed the note and held it up to the light.

"Hunh," she said, examining it closely. She put it down. "Well, I guess that's a result of my cranial indigestion from last night's sparring fest at the Gilmore residence. And the lack of morning coffee probably had something to do with it."

"Speaking of which," Rory grabbed the cup from Lorelai's hand, pecked her on the cheek, muttered something about Paris and homework and Mr. Medina and trudged back to her room.

Lorelai watched her go, making her mind up to have a talk with this Mr. Medina guy; Rory had been spending hours every night labouring over his assignments – she hadn't time for a movie night or even to hang out with Lane since Chilton started.


	2. Chapter 2

**Blue Plaid, Coffee and a Baseball Cap**

A/N: Please read and review. Not that reviewing will affect whether or not I complete this, but I'd like your input so I know where I'm going right and where I'm failing spectacularly. If you know what I mean… Thanks!

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Lorelai's phone chimed in her ear and she groaned as she rolled over in bed, glancing at the clock. She muttered something about the time and cupcakes before reaching onto her nightstand and grabbing the ringing fiend. She stared at the caller id and blinked.

"Mother," she said as she picked it up, "What time is it over there in Hartford? Because here is Stars Hollow it is what we call dawn, a time far too early to be receiving phone calls from even our most loved ones."

She heard her mother's impatience. "Lorelai, it is 7 in the morning; it is hardly _dawn_. I figured you would be up by now making a nice warm breakfast for my granddaughter before her half hour ride on the filth-ridden public bus to school. But, I guess I was mistaken. Perhaps your alarm clock didn't go off because you had a blackout last night, or maybe you drifted back to sleep, because I dare say it would be nothing short of shocking to hear that my 32 year old daughter finds it unlawful to be woken at 7 o'clock in the morning."

"I assume you didn't call just to make sure I'm awake, Mother Machiavelli." She rolled over in bed and squinted into the light that was coming in from between the drapes.

"I don't know what you're insinuating Lorelai, but I haven't time to figure it out. I'm on my way to the beauty parlour."

"Oh, good, I'll just document that in my personal day-planner so I'll know not to call you while your head is under the dryer," Lorelai groaned with sarcasm.

"There's no need for that, Lorelai, I'm just calling to remind you about Rory's parent-teacher conferences tonight."

Lorelai sat up in bed. She couldn't believe this had slipped her mind. But then, she couldn't recall ever knowing about this; she didn't think it was the kind of thing she would forget, but then, after forgetting Friday night dinner last week, anything was possible.

"Lorelai?" Her mother's shrill voice called her back to attention. "Lorelai? Are you still awake? Really, now –"

"Yeah, I'm here, Mom," she said, rubbing her head, thinking about coffee.

"You did know about PTA meetings tonight, I assume…?"

"Of course I knew about them, Mom."

"Good, so you know they start at 8.30 at Chilton?"

"Oh, look at that, it's right there in my day-planner after 'Mom's dinner', 'Dad's martini' and 'Dad's subsequent trip to bathroom to relieve himself of said martini.'"

"Lorelai, I don't understand your humour, but I need to go. See you on Friday."

She could almost hear her mother's smug look as the phone line went dead.

-LINE-LINE-

Rory trudged into the kitchen, her cross-tie loose around her neck, her knapsack slipping down her shoulders and her eyelids drooping.

"You weren't up again last night, were you, Rory?" Lorelai asked, straightening Rory's hair band and handing her a poptart and a mug of coffee from Luke's.

Rory nodded and muttered something barely discernable. She looked at her cup.

"Luke?" she said, and she glanced at the clock on the wall. "You woke up in time for Luke?"

"Don't ask…" Lorelai groaned.

Rory took a seat at the table and tied her tie with her poptart between her teeth.

"Hey, Rory…?" Lorelai asked, trying to sound nonchalant as she put away the box of poptarts, "How come you didn't tell me about your parent-teacher interviews tonight?"

Rory looked up quickly and then took a sip of coffee.

"I thought you knew. It was in the Chilton newsletter," she said, not looking up from the mug.

"Rory… when was the last time I read the Chilton newsletter? Was it in the issue before the one where I told you to give them to Miss Patty to use for her litterbox? Because that seems like awfully early to be announcing it."

"People at Chilton think ahead," Rory said, still not looking Lorelai in the eye.

"Is there something you want to tell me before I go to this meeting tonight?"

"No…. Yes. No. Well, I don't think you should go."

"Why not?"

"Well, aside from the fact that you're going to look like Vivian Ward to their Vivian Leigh…"

Lorelai was hurt.

"Not nice," she warned.

"Sorry. That's not it. I like that you're not Caroline Bingley in a business suit. I'm sorry I said that. It's Mr. Medina…"

Lorelai couldn't wait to talk to this guy. Rory was really struggling academically for the first time and it was clearly upsetting her.

"What about him, hun?"

Rory looked at the floor. "He gave me a D on my paper."

"When was this?"

Rory didn't say anything.

"Rory, honey, when did this happen?"

"Last month," she muttered.

Lorelai could see that saying anything about the grade was pointless as Rory was already beating herself up about it enough anyway. She was, however, shocked and a little disappointed. She knew Rory was intelligent and she definitely knew that she working harder than she ever had before, so Lorelai didn't understand where this guy was coming from. She'd read Rory's essays before – hell, half the time she didn't even understand most of the big words.

"Don't worry about, kid, I'll talk Mr. Medina about it tonight."

"Mom, promise you won't do anything embarrassing."

"I promise. Now, get your jacket, I'll drive you to the bus or you're going to be late."

Lorelai pulled over at the stop and Rory leaned across the car and planted a kiss on Lorelai's cheek.

"Thanks for not being mad," she said, "About the grade and everything."

Lorelai smiled. "Okay, scoot!" she said playfully, waving Rory away, "I have an inn to run and then an appointment with my hairdresser and makeup artist. I think you might be on to something with this Scarlett O'Hara meets Caroline Bingley in a business suit thing."


	3. Chapter 3

Lorelai pulled her skirt down and smoothed her hair as she slammed her car door and looked up at the immense Victorian building. She couldn't believe she was getting nervous about this, but, as she walked into the school and the mothers looked her up and down in her pin-striped gray and black mini-skirt, she grew more and more intimidated. She and Rory had always mocked these women as brainless narcissists, but seeing them walk into the school bearing binders and pads of paper (to take notes, she wondered?) she realized that no, these women were educated, probably far more educated than she (having never attended college) and they all had far more of what actually counted in this elitist Connecticut community – money.

She drew a breath of relief when she noticed a list of classrooms and teachers in the foyer, realizing that she was unsure which room she was headed for and she calmed again when she noticed a goodie-filled platter and urn of coffee at the back of the room. She sashayed over and poured herself a drink before settling at a desk toward the back of the room and in the row closest to the door. She already felt like a naughty schoolgirl – reminiscent of her days as a pregnant highschool student. And she twirled her hair self-consciously as the other parents conversed quietly with each other, no one approaching her at all.

A man sauntered to the front of the room and took his place before the desk there.

"Good evening, parents," he said and everyone quieted as they took seats at the immaculately clean desks. "My name is Max Medina; I teach history and English here at Chilton. I received my master's at Stanford university on the west coast, but, being a child of Connecticut myself, I chose to return back home to Hartford; I've been here ever since. As many of you know, Chilton prides itself on its superior education and its unparalleled facilities, staff, and, of course, student body…"

Lorelai zoned out. She wondered how many times this guy had practiced this speech and she wondered why he bothered with all the Chilton facts. No need to advertise the school to us, she thought, we're already dishing out 20 grand a year (and for some of us, our precious Friday nights and our sanity!) to send our kids here.

Finally, after what seemed like ages to Lorelai, Mr. Medina announced he would be holding private sessions with parents. Many couples wandered out of the room and Lorelai watched them leave angrily, as it was clear their children had not come home each night stigmatized by the letter D printed in red on their papers.

"Mr. Medina?" Lorelai asked hesitantly as she walked toward the front of the room. The man was taking his coat off and hanging it over the back of one of the chairs.

He looked up.

"Hi, I'm Lorelai Gilmore," she shook his hand quickly and then balled her fists against her thighs nervously, "I'm Rory Gilmore's mother."

"Yes, I deduced as much."

"She's new at Chilton," Lorelai began, "She was dying to come here. See, she wants to go to Harvard. She's wanted to since she was just a little kid. She had this Harvard t-shirt that we got on a visit to Boston once. When she outgrew it, she hung on her wall like a flag – ice cream stains and all." She laughed nervously.

"Mrs. Gilmore…"

"Miss. Gilmore. Call me Lorelai." Lorelai said quickly.

"Ah, Lorelai, I'm not sure where you're going with this, but I have a host of other parents waiting outside and – "

"Yeah, I understand. It's just… Rory's smart. She's quick, she's motivated – God knows she studies enough. So, I'm just wondering what you think she's missing."

"A lot of kids have trouble adjusting to life at Chilton when they arrive from other schools. Chilton's program is rigorous and competitive and it demands a lot of the pupils who choose to attend. The key word there is choose. Your daughter – or you – chose this school, you chose the prestige and the uniform and the workload. Rory is an intelligent girl and it's clear she's determined. She just needs time to get her sea legs."

"Mr. Medina –"

"Please, call me Max," he said, keeping his gaze clear of those big, pleading eyes.

"Max, you obviously don't have kids of your own, or you'd understand how hard it is to look into your daughter's eyes and see nothing but her own disappointment in herself."

"I realize that's it's been difficult –"

"No. Difficult is understanding the plot to the Matrix. Difficult is trying to understand the backwards talking kid in Little Man Tate or watching the father kill Old Yeller. I've never encountered as stuck up a group of people as the parents and children at Chilton. I've never watched kids genuinely mean it when they wish horrible diseases upon their classmates the day before a test. What kind of atmosphere are you promoting here?"

"Lorelai, I think that's a little unfair. I don't enforce that. I teach. That is what I am paid to do. As far as Rory is concerned, I know her competitive side is wearing her down now, but she has lots of potential and I'm confident she'll be successful here at Chilton. Don't let those Caroline Bingley mothers get you down, either. And, I'm sorry to disagree, but I found deciphering the backward talking kid – what _is_ his name? – in Little Man Tate one of the most entertaining parts of the film."

Lorelai had to let herself smile a little. It was true, that geeky little kid had always been her favourite.

"It's Bob," she smiled, "and that's just what Rory called them all. Caroline Bingleys."

"Great minds…" he grinned. "And you know what they say: '...Only when all who surround you are different will you truly belong...'"

"Ah, a classic."

"Indeed. Anyway, I have other parents to talk to, but let me give you my number… in case something comes up with Rory that you need to discuss. Or if you want to watch one of those early 90s sentimental feel-goods." He winked at her.

Lorelai hated herself for what she was feeling. Here was this guy, this man who had given Rory a D, and she couldn't help finding him incredibly charismatic and just overall a good guy.

"Thanks, I may take you up on that," she joked, folding the number and putting it in her purse. "And you should really tell those Chiltonites to dish out on some decent coffee for these conference things. This mud is less-than-Bingley worthy."

"Oh, I agree. What I wouldn't give for a cup of drinkable coffee at one of our staff meetings."

"A man after my own heart," she said with a devilish grin. "I know the best coffee joint in Connecticut. Of course, its whereabouts are highly secretive and, unfortunately, the owner, though loveable, is somewhat of an Oscar."

"Wilde?"

"No, think more 'the grouch.'"

"Ah, I see. Well, it's a risk I'd be willing to take. If you can handle it, I think I'm up for the challenge. You have my number, give me a call."

"Will do, Mr. Medina," she said.

"Tell Rory I say hi. And it's Max."

"Yes, okay, Mr. Medina. Goodnight, Mr. Medina."

He furrowed his brows at her. She gestured at the classroom and the desks.

"It's putting me in a studious mood," she said. "Well. Bye."


	4. Chapter 4

**The L/L action will begin head-on next chapter, that's a promise! I just needed this chapter first!**

Rory was seated on the couch reading through notes in a binder the size of War and Peace when Lorelai arrived back home. As her mother opened the door, Rory sprang up, looking nervous.

"How did it go?..." she asked.

"Well, aside from the Bacchae ladies tearing me to shreds with their evil death glares," Rory grinned at that, "it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been."

She sat back down on the couch and Lorelai joined her, picking up her binder, exaggerating its weight and putting it on the table with empty mugs of what had once been coffee.

"What do you put in this thing? Sheets of paper made of metal?"

"Nooooo…" Rory sighed, "It's my binder for Mr. Medina's class. It has all my notes from the whole year so far categorized by author and colour-coordinated for which work by which author it is. Chronologically, of course."

"Hunh. Maybe you could do that to my closet for me? I can never find anything in there. It's like Maurice Sendak unleashed his wild things in the middle night to leave my clothes in disarray." She looks into space thoughtfully, "Oh, no, wait. That was me. Looking for my sparkly pink shirt which I found, a week later, while doing laundry, tucked away in your drawer."

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that."

"It's okay. Only now, you can repay me for you unlawful thievery by cleaning my closet, doing the dishes and, of course, making home cooked meals every night. And you can sit in the corner of the kitchen by the hearth with all the ashes – "

"Mom." Rory was clearly not amused.

"Yeah?"

"What did Mr. Medina say?"

"He said that he thinks you're smart and capable and very pretty, only not quite as good looking as your strikingly beautiful mother."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Mom. This is important."

"That's what he said. He said you're smart and hard-working and that it takes a while for people to adjust to Chilton. He said taking time to get used to the workload is normal, and you have nothing to worry about."

Rory sighed.

"Oh, and that he likes to watch sentimental 90s movies, so I think we should write your next paper on Julia Roberts."

Rory looked at her mother sharply.

"Mom, you didn't."

"Uh oh. Not a fan of Little Man Tate?"

"Mom! This was parent-teacher night. You were supposed to go there and talk about me and how I don't deserve a D and you were supposed to tell him I work really hard and you're so glad to meet him and that my grandparents are on the board and pay a good portion of his salary." She moaned all in one breath.

"I did say that. Minus the part about Richard and Emily. Although we did mention that we don't like the Caroline Bingley-esque mothers and their godawful taste in coffee." Lorelai didn't understand what Rory was getting so worked up about.

"You told him I called those women Caroline Bingleys? They pay his salary, they run the school… why did you do this to me?" Her voice dripped with anger.

"What?" Lorelai threw up her arms. "What did I do that was so horrible, Rory? I went there, I talked to the guy, he ensured me you're not going to fail out of the institution, we talked a bit and then I left. Is that such a crime?"

"You _chatted_ with my teacher. At Chilton. Mr. Medina isn't a friendly, chatty kind of guy. He's a teacher. He has his _master's_ from _Stanford_, he doesn't talk about Julia Roberts and Colombian brew. He talks about Shakespeare and Chekhov and Katherine Mansfield. I can't believe you would bring that stuff up. You probably made me look so stupid."

Lorelai got it now; her face got hot with anger. "You mean: I probably made _me_ look stupid. Listen up, Rory, I put you in that school and I can take you out just as easily if you turn into one of those egotistical self-loving typical socialites. Just because I didn't go to Stanford University or the Ivy League does not mean I am unintelligent and that is _not_ the attitude any daughter of mine will take. And, just so you know, Max did enjoy talking about those things. He brought them up. He made the Pride and Prejudice reference, he elaborated on my Little Man Tate allusion and _he_ asked to check out Luke's for a cup of decent coffee."

Rory looked at her mother in surprise.

"You're unbelievable," she said slowly. "You _flirted_ with _Mr. Medina?"_

"What! No!" Lorelai was incredulous. "It was strictly friendly banter and Rory-related talk! He only gave me his number in case I had any concerns about _you_. My mission was entirely Rory-centric."

Rory gathered together her papers. "You know, there was a reason I didn't want you to go tonight. Now everyone in my school is going to think I sent my hot mother to flirt with my teacher for grades. Thanks a lot, Mom. Next time I'll just ask Grandma to go."

Lorelai was baffled and hurt as she walked Rory stalk of to her room. She needed coffee. She grabbed a jacket and headed off to Luke's.


	5. Chapter 5

**Blue Plaid… 5**

Lorelai pushed the doors to Luke's open although it was quite late and nobody remained in the diner. In fact, it took a few seconds after the door chimed for Luke to appear, tying his apron around his waist. He looked up.

"Oh, It's you."

"Hi," Lorelai slumped onto a stool, crossed her arms on the bar and buried her heard, "Need caffeine…" she groaned.

He watched her for a few seconds, not sure whether to take her seriously or not.

"You know, that stuff will kill you."

She threw an arm up in the air and exhaled loudly into her other elbow.

"Okay," he said finally, "It'll take a few minutes. Meanwhile, why don't you tell me what's wrong."

"Invasion of the body snatchers," she quipped. She sighed. "Either that or she's turning into one of them." A shudder.

He took a shot in the dark: "Don't worry; a virus will wipe them out."

"So not talking about literature here, Luke," Lorelai moaned, finally sitting up. "Chilton Parent-teacher conferences."

"That bad?" he asked, setting a mug of coffee down on the bar.

"Sad part is, it wasn't that bad at all," Lorelai began, "I mean, the women were about as nice as Ouiser Boudreaux, but the whole thing was surprisingly painless. I had a nice talk with one of Rory's teachers, and as soon as I tell her about it, she acts as if I come home saying he impregnated me in front of all the mothers of the PTA."

Luke grimaced.

"I don't care that _they_ think I'm uneducated, slutty, you know, a regular Lara Holleran…" she gulped from the steaming mug, "But Rory? She's never looked at me that way before. She was trying to convince me not to go beforehand because she didn't want me embarrassing her."

Luke looked at her slumped shoulders, speechless.

"Maybe I made a mistake sending her to this school, Luke. If she turns into one of those Chilton brats…"

"I think we both know that's not going to happen," he said, comfortingly, putting a reassuring hand on her arm. "Rory's a good kid. She's to a great role model," Lorelai smiled, "and a good head on her shoulders."

"Maybe," Lorelai sighed, "but today was so hurtful. I mean, she basically told me to my face that I don't belong in this new life she's setting up for herself. And then she's going to be at Harvard and things aren't going to get any better. I mean, this is her dream, I can't stop her from this, but if I lose her because of this…"

Luke shook his head.

"That really isn't going to happen," he said.

She looked up at him and smiled sadly. The silence made him awkward.

"It's about as likely as you getting any sleep after your caffeinated beverage at this hour."

Lorelai pouted childishly. "Meanie," she said. "Besides, you should know the Gilmore constitution is much stronger than to let a weak drink like this bring me to my knees."

"You insulting my coffee?" he joked.

"Luke, your coffee is ambrosial. It is the nectar of the gods and for that, I am eternally grateful," she said with mock seriousness, staring straight at him.

Luke smiled, shook his head and shooed her out off the stool.

"Go get some sleep," he muttered, picking up the mug and turning away, "and don't worry too much."

Lorelai smiled at him, nodded and turned to exit the diner.


	6. Chapter 6

**Blue Plaid 6**

A/N: Well, I'm not going to lie, I'm kind of disappointed with the reception I've been getting – and by that I mean, of course, the lack thereof. I figure writing this is kind of a waste of time, but whatever, I'll continue for a bit, but I'm losing motivation here!

Anyway…

**a100101001a**

Rory had left for school by the time Lorelai awoke the next morning, so she headed over to Luke's for a quick cup of coffee before leaving for the inn.

"'Morning Lucas," Lorelai grumbled.

His first reflex was to reach for the coffee mug. He reciprocated her greeting as he poured, adding:

"It's Luke."

"Like Skywalker."

"No. Like Luke."

"Oh, so you're going without last name a la Cher and Prince."

"Why do I feel like anyway I respond to this will get me another unwanted pop culture reference?"

"Because you know me entirely too well and you know that, seeing as my mouth and brain are unconnected in the morning before my dose of caffeine, the words just spill out automatically."

"And this is different from any other time of day because…" Luke joked, longing to keep up the conversation. He always hated when he ran out of things to say around her; he would be filled with this urge – this desire – for her to say more, do more, just stay where she was and let him look into her eyes, but that was always too awkward, of course.

"Oh, Mr. Nelson, how you humour me."

"We should just set you up with an intravenous flow of coffee; maybe the rambling would stop."

"No can do, Luke, hospital coffee isn't nearly as good as yours, and I'm thinking whatever you put into it to make it so good is probably illegal in at least 12 of the 50 states and so would be disallowed from the caffeine injection ward."

Luke rolled his eyes.

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you," he said.

"I can't believe you'd give up being Luke Skywalker to liken yourself to Cher, but that's the way it crumbles, cookie," she grinned at him and open her bag to take out some folded bills.

While taking out her wallet, a piece of paper fluttered down onto the bar. Luke handed it to her and glimpsed at it.

"It's Rory's teacher," Lorelai said hastily.

She wasn't sure why she felt the need to justify having men's numbers in her bag to Luke, but she did.

"He just wanted to know if he could swing around here sometime for a mug of coffee from the divine well you have brewing somewhere in there."

Luke nodded, growing uncomfortable. He wasn't sure why she was justifying this to him, but he wasn't really interested in knowing about her escapades with other men.

There was an awkward silence after Lorelai dropped two dollars onto the bar.

"Well," she said finally, "I need to head over to the inn, so I guess I'll see you tonight for dinner, unless, for some odd reason, I get seized by the sudden impulse to test the blender my mother sent to me when I moved into my house. However, as that is highly unlikely, I'll expect a triple cheese burger at around 6pm."

She turned to walk out of the dinner with a joking half-grin.

"And, I'm still waiting for you to whip out your light saber and astound us all with your sparring skills."

The people sitting at tables in the diner looked at her with surprise and then glanced around uncomfortably at the sexual inference. Luke rolled his eyes.

"Thanks for that," he said, shaking his head, "Now get outta here."

The door chimed as it shut behind her.

**a100101001a**

Rory dropped her knapsack on the floor and took a table at the diner to wait for her mother. She was about fifteen minutes early, so she pulled out a book to read as she sat there. She hadn't seen her mother yet today, but she was feeling badly about what she'd said the night before and she kept glancing out the window to see if Lorelai was on her way.

Luke approached and poured her a mug of coffee.

"Hi Luke," she said.

He nodded gruffly.

"Cat got your tongue?" she joked.

"No, just tired after having to stay up late last night to comfort your mother," he fibbed, not wanting to bring up the topic outright, but feeling the need to say something to Rory about Lorelai's troubled visit to the diner the night before.

Rory shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

"Was she really upset?" she asked quietly.

"Considerably so."

Rory knew her mother had discussed the issue with Luke and it added awkwardness to the situation.

"I didn't mean what I said," Rory said.

"I know that and I think you mother knows that, too," Luke said sympathetically. "Still, Rory, you mean everything to your mother… that's a big responsibility. She went to that meeting because you were unhappy and I think she felt unjustly accused."

Rory nodded and looked down at her papers, not reading anything.

Luke walked back to the bar to ring up a customer's bill.

Rory muttered, "Thanks for the coffee," just as he stepped out of earshot.


End file.
